


Devotion

by Melbell-lings (Melee)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melee/pseuds/Melbell-lings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England sits and drinks tea and talks small and hears Russia on insignificant things before he deems it an appropriate time to make his point heard.</p>
<p>“Canada.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devotion

He was a danger, England realized, like anything else was a danger in Canada’s world: His proximity to the boy. England did not know how stupid he could have been before - always wary of America’s culture, America’s money, America’s wars, forgetting that just because the 49th parallel was clustered with Canadians did not mean _the nation_ had only one neighbour.

He sees it in the soft smile on Canada’s face. “It was a big land for a little nation. Then I met him,” and Canada softens with nostalgia. “I met him, and for once I thought I might not be alone in the wide, white world.”

He sees it in the glimmer in Canada’s eyes. “He was the only one I ever lost a war to. No, I didn’t really care about that, hell we had more going on on the Western Front, but still… Hockey, I’m always best about that. It’s just nice that someone hates me so much when they lose.”

_I would hate to lose to you_ , England doesn’t say, but makes sure his actions speak volumes.

This is why he is knocking on a bright blue door of a ducha just outside of Moscow.

“Ah, England, please come in,” Russia greets him with a thin-lipped smile. England has seen him give Canada real smiles during meetings, and the thought fills England with a rage _that something is going on he doesn’t know about_.

England sits and drinks tea and talks small and hears Russia on insignificant things before he deems it an appropriate time to make his point heard.

“Canada.”

Russia’s fingers flex on the handle and the cup pauses just inches before his mouth. “Oh?”

England isn’t sure if it’s a question, or if Russia has just realized the true intention of his visit, but he bulls on anyway. “I want you to stay away from him.” Russia begins to protest and England consents, “As much as politics will allow.”

Russia puts down his teacup without having taken a sip. “Canada and I have been friends for a very, very long time. I doubt our relationship will stop just because of your inferiority complex.”

England snorts. “I doubt you’ve been friendly that long.”

Russia stops his smirk half way. “I think you might be surprised.”

England growls at that and Russia leans back to continue. “I think I will not listen to you. I think Canada is a good comrade.” Why does he still use that word? “I think I would like for him to be more.”

England freezes, but before the words can sink in fully, he lurches forward. “You bastard. I know what you have been, I know what you are now, and I will not let you take another innocent-"

Russia pushes forward, and now they are breathing the same air, noses almost touching. “But I wanting things a friendship cannot provide.”

Now England realizes that things are perhaps worse than he was willing to admit, and Canada would not take him putting his foot down happily, and he remembers the blood they both sacrificed for Russia, on Russia, and he forced Canada to give up so much, this time he would take the punishment. England bridged the last little bit of distance and kissed Russia.

Russia’s lips are far less pliant than England would have thought and he prickles with indignation at the idea. He hears the cuckoo clock and the birds outside and his own heartbeat in his ears.

England leans back, hands leaving the table to rest in his lap. Russia’s eyes were open the whole time, and now they stare back at England unblinking and filled with a kind of light that scares England, just a little.

He smiles a fake smile far too easily. “Ah, I see that negotiations are still open. Well, if you’re willing to make a compromise, far be it for me to reject it.”

England sits still, forcing every muscle not to move lest he betray something. Russia stands up and gestures at the table set up. “I think the tea must be far too cold. Will you help me?”

It takes England a moment to loosen his pose enough to stand and contribute to the cleaning.


End file.
